


Choices

by pisum_sativum



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Choices, Dark, Death Star, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Poor Life Choices, Redemption, The Dark Side of the Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 17:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19816966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pisum_sativum/pseuds/pisum_sativum
Summary: Vader was haunted by a ghost, his old Master's ghost to be exact.





	Choices

Vader floated in the bacta tank. Only in here did he not feel the constant pain in his body, or the weight of his armor a burden on his shoulders.

He smelled nothing. His olfactory bulb was damaged beyond repair after that fateful day on Mustafar. The day he lost everything…

No, it was the day _Anakin Skywalker_ lost everything, and it was the day he, _Darth Vader,_ gained everything. The Dark Side. The power, unlimited power.

If his nose still worked properly, Vader would have sensed the unique scent of bacta. The scent of bacta was hard to describe, sickly-sweet yet sterile. The closest thing he could find to compare it to was pineapple juice mixed with rubbing alcohol.

Anakin Skywalker used to have mixed feelings about the bacta.

Bacta meant someone Anakin Skywalker cared about was injured, which was unacceptable; one of the things Anakin Skywalker hated most was being unable to protect those he loved. At the same time, it meant they were alive, bacta was no good healing the dead. They were alive to see other battles. And it meant....

Vader mustered hatred and rage from the inside of his soul. A memory was forming, getting clearer and clearer with every throb of his machine-generated pulse.

It was after a battle on a planet he could no longer named. Kenobi had been rubbing bacta on nasty burns on his arm.

_"Your recklessness will get you killed one day."_

_Kenobi's voice was clear, no trace of haziness that clouded fine details of the tent as he continued to scold at Anakin, telling him not to risk himself like he did again, which was a hypocritical statement. Kenobi would do the same in Anakin's place. It was a risk they would take to save lives. It was not a choice at all not to put themselves in harm's way--it was the only right thing to do._

The right thing. There was no such thing as the right thing. Anakin Skywalker, like the rest of the Jedi, was a fool to believe such thing existed. The concept of right and wrong was just an obstacle to overcome, an illusion Vader had seen right through with the guidance of his Master.

_Anakin nodded absentmindedly. Kenobi asked Skywalker the impossible. It was not that Kenobi didn't know that it would become a broken promise, much like the ones that littered their relationship. It was a way Kenobi expressed how grateful he was that Skywalker came back alive._

_Kenobi…_

There was no one ever existed save for himself Vader hated more than Kenobi.

Kenobi could have granted him easy, swift death. Instead, like an exemplary Jedi he was, he left Vader to the mercy--or cruelty, he could argue--of the Force. Before that, Kenobi had turned his own wife against him, his angel. If Kenobi hadn't, Vader wouldn't have lost himself and killed her.

Vader liked to think about Kenobi. The Dark side flowed so easily at the mention of that one man who had stolen so much. He wandered down the well worn path of memory, the pain of having his limbs amputated, the loss of their unborn child, and--

Oh.

Vader was too late. He didn't quelled that sensation in time. That sensation bloomed to a memory. The memory was not his. It belonged to Anakin and other life time. Apparently, the memory didn't shared his notion. It stuck inside his mind, no matter how hard he tried to claw away, he couldn't. He was like a ship with a broken engine trying to escape from a tractor beam. The struggle was futile.

He was pulled into the other life, his limbs still whole and intact, when the Light flowed freely inside him. Dry, soft lips against his own. Ginger beards scratching his nose as a tongue slipped through the opening of his lips to entwine with his own. Their lips very much like a state they were in, tangled deeply in each other's limbs on a moldy bunk, covered in sweat and mud and unknown substance that was better left unknown.

A warm hand cradling his face was tangible. He was cherished, caressed and cared for. He trusted--oh he trusted that Kenobi would take care of him. He wrapped his hands, one flesh, one in black leather glove around Kenobi's forearm to keep him there.

The Dark he mustered evaporated, along with it the memory was definitely not _his._ But the caress was still there, as real as bacta around him. He could almost believe Kenobi was here, cupping his chin the way he would do to Anakin, his light pulsing against Vader's darkness. 

_Cherished, caressed and cared for._

*

There was a glimmer of blue on the edge of his vision when all he could see were red. It would be gone when he turned to face it, taking with it a chill that should not have permeated through his homeostatic suit.

It was either an apparition or a hallucination. Vader convinced himself it was the latter.

Strangely enough, this either-an-apparition-or-a-hallucination thing would appear after he had spilled blood--not in literal sense as lightsabers left little to no bloodshed. The chill was not noticed by Vader alone. He could sense shivers under the Stormtrooper's armor.

After that, floating in the bacta tank to heal his injury, if there was any, he would sense sorrow that were not his own. 

_Show yourself!_ Vader would think out through the Force, and the occult presence would disappear.

This either-an-apparition-or-a-hallucination thing was likely an apparition.

*

In his meditation chamber, he meditated. It was not Sith meditation, or Jedi, but the kind that involved deep contemplation and self-reflection.

After nineteen years of the Rise of the Empire, the Death Star was finished. There would be peace, the Emperor told him, no one would dare to rebel in the face of destruction of one's planet.

Peace, it was something Padme had fought for throughout her tragically short life. Had she lived, she would have been delighted.

There would be no more war, no more disagreement. They would make everyone agree.

No, that was not right, the part that was once Anakin Skywalker, where an ember of the Light still existed, thought. If Padme had seen him as he was now, she would have recoiled from him. She fought for democracy, for freedom. She fought so that everyone would be heard, not silenced. 

What he did was against all she had fought for.

Vader did nothing in revelation. He didn't even blink. What he did was wrong, like everything he had done since Padme died. It would be just another wrong in millions and millions of things in the list. He no longer had something or someone to fight for. He was a broken man too cowardly to change.

If given someone, or something to protect, he might take action, he might kill Sidious and then himself to end the horror of the Sith. But there was no one. 

He would die alone. He had known this and accepted this fate ever since the day he embraced the dark side. The day his strength failed him, he would fall in a battle.

And no one would bother to pick him up. Not even his Master, especially not his Master. Vader would be of no use when he could no longer fight.

Then he would die.

A Sith was supposed to try to overcome death and seek immortal life. Vader just couldn't see the point, the way he couldn't see the point in existing for another day that was not for the Empire.

He would embrace death when it came. He did not exactly enjoy life, but there was no proof that death would be any better. He supposed he could overthrow Sidious and became his own Master. And then what? Ruling an Empire was not what he wanted if there was no one to share it with. He was a soldier, a strategist, not a ruler.

Even so, he didn't like to fight without a cause. Troopers shouldn't die unnecessarily. 

Was the Empire enough of a cause for troopers' death?

He shutted that train of thought, it was not his place to doubt. It was probably Skywalker's foolishness that remained. This foolishness would disappear in his Master's presence. 

He was distracted by prickle at the back of his neck, the feeling there was someone watching him.

He turned back.

No one was there.

*

"What is thy bidding, my master?"

His earlier doubt melted away until he didn't know why he felt such doubt in the first place.

"Walk with me, Lord Vader."

Their footsteps echoed in sterile corridor of Death Star.

"How do you think about Tatooine? Given your background, I am afraid you would have… a certain attachment to the planet."

"The planet held no meaning to me, Master."

Sidious cackled.

"Good, good, Lord Vader. It would soon be yours to destroy. The first planet ever to perish in the face of a Death Star."

*

The Emperor was not in a hurry to destroy it. The Rebel was too scattered to do anything to the Station as of now. He had a week to strip things that would be of use to the Empire off the planet. A week for the presence to manifest himself.

The blue presence had taken a form as he gave order to a captain to continue the raid. The shape was blurred but humanoid.

"You'll regret doing this."

_Kenobi._

There was no mistaking that voice.

Vader concluded the business and went into an empty meeting room. He waved his hand, temporary disabled the security camera and locked the door.

"I know you, Anakin. Destruction is not what you want. You can destroy the Death Star, you know its weakness. You're the Chosen One. Come back to the Light. The choice is still yours."

Kenobi was no different from before. Always preaching like an old saint. Vader was pretty bored with his lecture. He ignited his red lightsaber. He was not sure what the laser blade would do to an apparition but supposed it wouldn't hurt to try.

"If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

Always the Negotiator, his words were sharpened into weapon. Weapon of doubt in this instance, thinking Vader would fall into this trap.

The saber passed through the thin air. leaving a puddle of glimmering cloak that shimmered and disappeared.

So Kenobi, leaving his cloak everywhere he went.

*

Kenobi came back. It was not Kenobi that Vader remembered, he was _old_ , weathered and aged beyond his years, but he remembered the flick of his wrist as he folded his hands in his sleeves.

"Kenobi," he spat out like the name was hemlock. Spoken out loud, the name brought back unwanted memories. The caress. Was Kenobi really there when he felt it?

"Darth." Kenobi bowed as he said the title, like they just met for the first time. He found Kenobi's refined accent irritating and mocking at the same time.

"It is a pleasure to meet again."

Vader pulled his saber hilt from his belt, but didn't ignite. Kenobi's words from before came back.

_If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine._

Looking at Kenobi, there was a faint trace of color in the blue. His gray-green blues eyes were as penetrating as it did in life. If he struck Kenobi again, only the Force knew what would happen. He clipped the saber back to the belt.

"What do you want?" Vader hissed, even if he knew what Kenobi wanted, always the impossible. He couldn't turn from the Dark side, more than Kenobi could turn from the Light.

"Your only family is on the planet."

Kenobi must meant the Lars.

"They do."

Kenobi remained an unwanted guess in just the corner's vision. Silent, somber.

"Your child was on Tatooine, Darth," Kenobi said in the very last moment, minutes, maybe seconds before the planet's last breath.

"What?" 

"Anakin Skywalker's son."

So his child survived then, when his angel didn't. It was ingenious of what was left of the Jedi, hiding his child where he swore never to go back to again.

"You can still save him."

Yes, he could still save him, turned him to the Dark. His son must be so strong, so sensitive to the Force. His mind built a vision of them, ruling the galaxy as father and son. But the vision didn't hold much appeal to him.

He didn't know the boy, didn't raise him up from the crib. Maybe the boy had his mother's hair, Anakin's eyes, Shmi's tenderness.

"What is his name?"

"Luke. Luke Skywalker." he committed his name to memory. It was fitting. Light.

_Oh, Padme._

He strode to the bridge, to the officer awaiting his command.

 _The choice is still yours._ Kenobi's voice rang inside his skull.

"Fire."

Kenobi dropped to his knees, like the destruction of the planet pained him. Vader imagined thousands of lives crying out at once.

How painful was that for the Light?

Vader stared at Kenobi, still on his knees, clutching his heart.

Definitely not enough.

*

"He was so much like you the last time I saw him, he was almost ten, I think. The Lars raised him. I lived there too, to look after him," Kenobi said the next time they were alone.

Vader was so tired of him. He roared and leaped with the aid of the Force to slam Kenobi to the wall. He felt surprising real against him.

Vader bared his teeth under the mask. For years, he had thought hundred thousands ways he could kill Kenobi for what he had done.

He supposed he could try them now.

Vader used the Force to hold Kenobi on the wall. Thick liquid trickled down from the back of the Jedi's skull where it met the wall.

Kenobi was helpless and struggling against his hold as Vader shredded his clothes, tore them from the seam.

"Obi-Wan, master." He called the man the way Anakin used to call him.

"No! Please, no."

Vader smiled. He trailed down Kenobi's length in false gentleness. It stiffened in his gloved palm. He shivered as Vader brushed across sensitive glans.

"No, no. Stop."

Vader cupped the scrotum in his free hand, toying it the way Anakin did and Vader never forgot.

"After all these years, I still manage to arouse you." Vader dug his helmet in Kenobi's tender flesh.

"No more. Anakin, please. You're not this monster." Kenobi begged between his whimpers.

"You never stop loving me," Vader said in the middle of teasing, his hand moving to Kenobi's backside, to the hole.

Kenobi tried to bite his mask as Vader pressed closer to his face. His fingers, gloved and unlubricated, ripped into Kenobi's opening. He shoved them deeper, encouraged by a pained scream. He thrust, feeling tissue ripped and tore under his hand.

He loved the scream.

*

Years had passed since the destruction of Tatooine, years he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he spared his son. 

And Kenobi still came to him after what had happened. Kenobi kept himself in intangible form, always out of reach, appearing infrequently, telling him he could still choose.

Years were not kind to Vader, his joints ached, his stubs gave painful throbbing where they joined prosthetics. The armor weighed down his weary bones more than he cared to admit.

The Emperor, if possible, became even more shrivelled, like fruit left to rot in glaring sun. But his laugh was as evil as ever.

_There is another hope._

The voice came out of nowhere, seconds before alarm blared and things went to chaos.

He rushed to his master. His first duty was to protect him at all cost.

The Rebel were stronger than Vader expected. They fought their way pass the troopers and into the Throne Room.

Vader turned on the saber and fought. The Rebels were led by Organa's daughter these days, Leia Organa, princess of Alderaan. A small pain pricked his shoulder, so slight it almost went unnoticed.

_There is another hope._

Vader was out of breath from this prolonged fight. He didn't have youth on his side anymore. He was _old,_ a formidable warrior with arthritis.

A blaster bolt hit his chest panel, he didn't deflect it in time. His end was nigh, he couldn't survive long with his suit malfunctioned. Another bolt hit his arm.

Kenobi appeared, more real than he had ever seen. 

His chest gave an unfamiliar twinge that must have something to do with his suit. He would not die alone.

Something hit the back of his leg and he tumbled. It occurred to him that he must have been hit with a stun and some kind of Force-suppressant some times before that, he could not move and the Force was not in reach.

The Rebels were smarter than he gave credit for.

Something tugged at his consciousness. It felt like Death.

And a caress.

Warmth cupping his face, gentle touch stroking his cheek.

_Obi-Wan._

A tingle on his bloodless lips.

It was Obi-Wan.

_"Come, Anakin. It was time."_

He thought he heard a triumphant cheer from the Rebels as he followed Obi-Wan, but he couldn't be sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a darker companion piece to "Ghost".


End file.
